


laisse la nuit trembler en nous

by LtTanyaBoone



Category: Cardinal (TV 2017)
Genre: Cheating, F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26339188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtTanyaBoone/pseuds/LtTanyaBoone
Summary: "What Dyson does, inside the bedroom and outside of it, that’s none of her business. And if anyone asks, well, all they did was have a few drinks."
Relationships: Lise Delorme/Noelle Dyson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	laisse la nuit trembler en nous

**Author's Note:**

> *carefully places this down before scurrying off again*

There are things that you shouldn’t do. Stick a knitting needle into an electrical socket. Walk across a busy street without looking left or right. Stuff like that, it’s, common sense. And it should also be common sense that sleeping with your boss is an equally bad idea.

For a police detective that managed to nail the town’s mayor, Lise seems to be rather short on common sense these days, it appears. Because there is no other way of explaining how she ended up in Noelle Dyson’s bed.

They’d been, commiserating. Well, okay, it was more like wallowing in self-pity. At least that’s what she’d been doing, at the bar. Downing shots with the only intention of getting drunk of her ass, so she’d be able to finally get some sleep. It’s been, difficult, since Josh left a few days ago. Turned out to be hard, to fall asleep in the bed she used to share with her husband. The bed she rarely ever slept alone in before.

The house, all of it, had been for them. They’d bought it, together, shortly after getting married. Had furnished it, together. It had been a big exercise in compromise, on her part. And now she’s stuck in a place that has her husband’s touches all over it, down to the kind of pots that are in the damn kitchen cupboards. Being in the house, it had been, too much, so she’d fled. Not to the World Tavern, people might have recognized her there, or worse, she might have run into someone she knows. Like Cardinal, or worse even, McLeod. The last thing she needed, had been Ian McLeod’s ugly mug while she’s getting pissed. So she’d gotten into her car and gone for a drive, pulling up at a bar just outside of Sudbury. Had made sure she had enough money for a cab back home, before she’d gone in and ordered a drink.

Dyson showed up about half an hour after her. Had sat down next to Lise and ordered herself a whiskey. She’d blinked in surprise, before switching from tequila shots to whiskey as well. She thinks the only reason that Dyson even started talking, had been because she’d thought Lise was already well beyond tipsy and wouldn’t remember anything from their conversation the next morning. Maybe she should have told her boss that, despite being somewhat of a messy drunk, she tends to not get the relief a blackout would bring her, from her embarrassment that she always ends up suffering the next day. But words, especially English words, had already been difficult, at that point, so she’d just, let the older woman talk. Rant, really. About her wife, about how she deserved so much better. About what a great person Sylvie is, a downright saint, an absolute angel, with way too much love and understanding-

Lise had coughed then, pressing the back of her hand over her mouth as the bile rose in her throat. Dyson had practically grabbed her by the back of her sweater and dragged her outside, and not a second too soon, because as soon as the cold air hit her face, Delorme had begun to retch, her stomach protesting against the abuse of the past hour and a half, her body rebelling against the level of alcohol already in her system.

At least she hadn’t thrown up on Dyson’s shoes. Only managed to get a tiny bit of sick on her own pants and boots, thanks to the other woman pressing her neck down to make her lean forward as Lise heaved and her stomach got rid of its contents.

She doesn’t remember the drive back to Algonquin Bay. She might have passed out in the car, which was probably for the best, given how wasted she’d been. If she’d been awake, Delorme is pretty sure she would’ve thrown up in Dyson’s car. It had been bad enough already at that point, so she considers it a small mercy that she managed to avoid that particular kind of humiliation. She woke up a few hours later, on her stomach on her couch, right foot and arm touching the floor, with a bucket beside herself and a glass of water as well as two aspirin on the table. There’d been a note, as well. To tell her to call Dyson for a lift to the bar, so she could pick up her car, and the advice to find a better hiding spot for the spare key.

She didn’t call her boss, for a lift. Got a cab, after she’d had a thorough shower and half a pot of coffee to wake herself up enough to be able to drive. On her way back, she mulled over what would be an appropriate “thank you for making sure I wouldn’t suffocate on my own vomit” gift for her boss. She ended up going with a bottle of expensive whiskey, the one Dyson had ordered at the bar. Maybe subconsciously, she’d hoped that it would lead to an invitation inside the other woman’s home, but when it did, Delorme had still been surprised.

She’s not one to pay attention to the gossip mill at the precinct. Not overly so, at least. She does try to keep track of who is dating who, just to avoid awkward tensions when people break up. Lord knows she’s stepped into it before. So when people were saying that Dyson wore the same outfit two days in a row, Delorme chalked it up to her being overworked and unwilling to leave her office long enough to go home and get changed. But then it happened again, and again. She found out that in the past, the DS’s wife used to stop by, with new outfits and dinner or breakfast, but that didn’t happen. Instead, Dyson now seemed to keep a spare change of clothes in a bag under her desk. There’d been several tense phone calls, as well, Delorme catching the tail end of them a few times. She never commented. Besides it certainly not being her place, she’d been rather busy, with the investigation as well as trying to nail her partner for corruption. And taking a blowtorch to her own marriage in the progress. 

If Cardinal were to find out about this, he would probably kill her. Not because of some strange overprotective instincts towards their DS. Delorme doesn’t think he has any of those. Respects Dyson too much to think that he has to be her keeper in any way. But because it is such a dumb, stupid mistake to make. A detective should really know better than that, should have much more sense than this. But it appears that her self-destructive impulses are a lot stronger than her knowledge of what she should do. Or who she should not be doing.

Dyson doesn’t say anything about it. About what happened, between them. She makes them coffee in the morning, and Lise sheepishly accepts a cup. She’s trying to figure out, if she should be apologizing. If she should be making excuses, tell Dyson it didn’t mean anything, or that it was a mistake. But she can’t make herself say so. Isn’t sure if she believes it, either. It might have been a mistake, but she’s not entirely sure if it doesn’t mean something. Not that she’s thinking about romantic feelings, or anything like that. But it might mean that her own marriage is truly over and she should give up trying to convince her husband that she’ll change, that the two of them deserve a second chance. And maybe, it doesn’t mean anything great, for Dyson’s own marriage.

Not that Delorme would ever dream of saying so out loud. She’ll keep her mouth firmly shut, about this, to anyone else. What Dyson does, inside the bedroom and outside of it, that’s none of her business. And if anyone asks, well, all they did was have a few drinks. She’s not one to ruin someone else’s relationship over a dumb mistake like this. If Dyson wants to get back together with her wife, she’s not going to get in the way of that.

Only that it happens a second time. And a third. At which neither one of them can make the excuse of having been drunk off their asses. Dyson didn’t have more than half a glass of wine and Delorme was stone cold sober. No alcohol to muddle her brain, she knew exactly what she was doing when she responded to Dyson’s kiss.

It was strange, at first. Mostly because Delorme doesn’t have a lot of experience, with other women. And also because she’d been absolutely drunk out of her mind that first time. Can’t remember a lot of it, really. It was nice, she remembers that much. But it is much, much better, with a clear head. When she can notice all the details, and remembers them later, too. The way Noelle nibs at her lower lip between kisses as she starts to unbutton her blouse. The way she tilts her head back as Lise starts kissing down her jaw, allowing her access to her neck. How soft her body is, beneath Lise’s. How nice it feels, when she kisses her. How insistent her hands are, as if she can’t get enough of touching her.

There’s still this, lingering awkwardness between them, after. When Delorme is tethering just on the edge of falling asleep and isn’t sure if she should allow herself to. Because this isn’t her place, it’s Dyson’s. It’s not her own bed, and she really shouldn’t get too comfortable in it. Perhaps No- Dyson, perhaps she wants her gone. Lise only spent the night the first time because she basically passed out right after, too much alcohol in her system. And it was mighty awkward the next morning.

But then she feels No- Dyson shift behind her. Delorme opens her mouth to apologize and reaches for the duvet to pull it off and get out of be. Only Dyson is pressing her face into her neck and slinging her arm over Delorme’s waist. She reaches down, touching Dyson’s arm, a smile tugging on her lips. Asks her, what she’s doing, Delorme’s heart suddenly hammering inside her chest as she tries to figure out what is going on, what’s happening. Because this, it feels like she is so utterly out of her element, here. Feels like she’s suddenly finding herself on shifting sand. No, more than that. It feels like the ground has just opened up under her and suddenly, she’s in free fall, not entirely sure what she’s going to land on.

Noelle lets out a deep sigh, appearing to press even closer. As Lise’s brows rise, the other woman surprises her even more by murmuring a request for her to stay. Lise swallows thickly, before thinking, how much more damage would staying do? After what they just did, it really seems like more of a, minor detail, than anything else. And besides, she’s kind of, worn out. Is starting to feel herself get very sleepy. And Noelle’s bed is soft and warm and nice and she could really do with some rest.

So Lise merely lets out a hum in reply. Turns her face, to kiss the top of Noelle’s head before closing her eyes, allowing sleep to pull her under.

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> i've been on an intense Delorme/Dyson kick the past month. there's a different 35k thing coming at some point. you've been warned lol


End file.
